


Jumping for Joy

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Birthday Party, Bisexual Castiel, Castiel's Birthday, Dean is In Over His Head, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Openly Bisexual Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean jumps onto his double-twin, which protests with a low-sounding creak. He bounces on the mattress three times. Then, on his fourth or fifth jump into his campaign for Cas’s robbed adolescence, he’s moaning the boy’s name. Not once or twice, but three times his crippled voice rings throughout the thin walls of the cabin. Cas quickly joins him, only to cover his mouth and silence the high-pitched shrill coming from the springs beneath them.</p><p>“What the hell are you doing?!” he raged in a loud whisper. Dean cocked his head, smiling.</p><p>“Making you the most hated alumnus from Sioux Falls High.”</p><p>Or the one where Cas is sad and Dean comes up with a temporary solution to both of their problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumping for Joy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the famous scene from Easy A, except...
> 
> Well, you'll see.

High school parties were the bane of Castiel Novak’s existence.

That’s why Dean is determined to make his the best one ever.

Dean gauges his reaction when he proposes the idea. Granted Cas is famous for spending his high school career burying his nose in textbooks instead of something far less didactic (“Oh _gross,_ people actually do that?”), Dean’s not surprised when he sacks it altogether.

Then again, Dean should have known better than to tell him about anything that even remotely involves having a good time. He’s known the guy since freshman year: Cas is all work and no play, literally making him the dullest Jack around.

Not for the first time, Dean has to try extra hard to go against his wishes because despite his penchant to make things more difficult, Cas deserves the best birthday a mechanic on a part-time salary can buy. Plus, it’s his eighteenth. If anything, he should be spending it three sheets to the wind. Not under it like he does when he pretends to sleep because _who the hell sleeps with a flashlight, Cas, I know you’re studying, go to bed._

Except now, Cas has no excuse to lay neck on being a reckless teenager. School is out, finals are over, and it’s time to fucking party.

“A few hours, Bobby, that’s all I ask.”

“As long as nobody touches my liquor cabinet, you can have it till midnight for all I care.”

Persuading Uncle Bobby into borrowing his house for the night was easier than teaching Michael Jackson the alphabet. He always put forth the attempt to jostle him like any parental figure would, but Bobby was an all-around accommodating guy, especially when it came to his two adopted sons.

Dean didn’t know if he knew the whole truth about he and Cas, but he’s not too sure if he wanted to find out. Bobby may have been a functioning alcoholic, but he was perceptive. The guy could tell when you’re lying and what you’re lying about before he so much as looked at you. Granted Dean’s colorful history, he learned that the hard way.

It would get a whole lot more colorful if Bobby knew he was in love with his best friend.

“Hey, so you’re still coming over tonight, right?” Dean’s jaw clenches as he mentally steels himself for the very real possibility that Cas would cancel. It’s second nature for Cas to go back on plans, between a full-ride from Harvard (the dude’s _really_ smart, like next Fibonacci smart) and overbearing parents.

There’s static on the other end before he hears, “Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t we be?”

“No, reason, I was just checking.” Dean bites his lip, holding back a smile Cas can’t see. Behind him, a thick, Cajun voice yells, _“Get ‘em, Chief!”_ followed by a crackling whip sound. Dean rammed his head against the drywall.

He could practically feel Cas’s piercing blue eyes on him when he asks, “What was that?”

“I, uh, nothing—left the TV on in the living room. _Jerry Springer,_ man.”

“Really?” he probed, “Because I could’ve sworn that sounded like Benny.”

Dean chuckled uneasily, “Why would Benny be here? It’s our night, remember?”

“Right, yeah. Sorry, I’m probably delusional. I’ve been staring at the same Word document for over an hour.” A pause proceeded by a click, then: “I’ll be over in ten.”

“Cool, yeah, see you then.” He promptly hung up before turning to face the throng of people packed like sardines in Bobby’s cabin with an exasperated look. Dean despised teachers growing up. Now he was an adult legally in charge of a bunch of rowdy asshats. This was no doubt the universe’s jab at irony.

“Alright, listen up. House rules: Nothing comes in or out of here unless you’re passing it, the attic is no man’s land, and if you wanna bang a few gongs before the lights go out, don’t do it anywhere we eat or sleep, got it?” The crowd dismembered into a dozen smaller groups, leaving Dean to seek out a heavily tattooed Louisiana native. “Coward,” he mutters just as he feels a strong hand pull him back.

“So, you gonna tell him?”

Dean caught his breath. “ _Jesus Christ,_ Benny, you’re full of surprises today, aren’t you?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he bantered.Dean punched him in the arm.

“I don’t know, man, it’s just… not the right time.”

Benny narrowed his eyes. “Oh, right, you mean like it wasn’t the right time last year, and the year before that? Now he’s flying across the country in less than a couple months and it’s still not the right time? Is there an app for this shit or something?”

“An app for what?” interjected technological genius Charlie Bradbury. She had a red solo cup in hand that accorded with her fire-red hair. “I’m always a slut for new apps.”

“Nothing, just Dean’s microscopic—” Before he could finish, the front door swung open, revealing a very disconcerted Castiel. He wore a bumblebee sweater underneath his wonted trenchcoat and black pants. His hair, unlike the rest of him, was undecided, standing up in every direction, adding to his apparent shock.

Grateful for his always impeccable timing, Dean rushed over to Cas, pulling him in a hug. “Dean,” he started carefully, “who are these people?”

“Happy birthday, man,” he said, guiding him through the mass of minors. Some slapped him encouragingly on the back while others just eyed him funny before returning to their far more interesting conversations. Cas stopped Dean in the middle of the crowded hallway.

“Dean, I told you I didn’t want a party.”

Dean tossed him a lopsided grin. “That’s why I threw you one. Surprise! _”_ He threw out his arms in a grand gesture to the scheme of things around him, but Cas was pushing past him gruffly, heading toward the stairs. Dean blinked disbelievingly. It didn’t help that everyone around him was doing the same. _Vultures._

It wasn’t long until Dean shadowed Cas.

***

Dean never felt more like an outsider in his own house than the moment he found himself knocking on his bedroom door. “Cas?” he tried once more, acquainting himself with the age-old cracks in the door. Cracks Dean had put there after forcing tiny green army men into a vertical formation. No answer. “You better not be naked, ‘cos I’m coming in.”

When he steps through the door, he beholds a sight he would give anything to take back. Cas is propped against the foot of Dean’s bed, trenchcoat pooled around his ankles and wrapped around him like a shield. He has his face buried in his hands and as he lifted his head, Dean sees tears suspending in his eyes. He sits crisscross next to him and plays nervously with his fingers until Cas musters the courage to speak. It feels like eternity.

“I just wish it would _stop_ ,” Cas whimpered, choking on the last word. Dean turned his head.

Tentively, he asks, “Wish what would stop, buddy?”

“E-everything,” he stammered. “Time, for instance.”

Dean cracked a small smile. “You know punching the clock is a metaphor, right?”

“I’m expected to celebrate another year of living,” he continued, “when I’m leaving everyone and everything behind.”

Dean jaw catches. To tell Cas hasn’t thought about the day he gets shipped off to Cambridge would be a boldfaced lie, so instead he closes his eyes and sighs through his nose. “I know.”

Silence stretches between them—not the kind of silence that’s comfortable among friends, but the kind that’s at the mercy of a single word. Dean is at a loss for words, so instead, when Cas’s head is turned, he laces their fingers together, relaying an unspoken promise.

He feels Cas tighten his hold when he starts speaking again, this time angrier, “I didn’t even get to experience life. You know, be a normal teenager. Not even—” His voice cuts off, but like a good friend Dean knows what he was going to say without him having to say it. Cas is a virgin—like full-on never-been-touched-for-the-very-first-time virgin.

That’s when Dean gets the idea. “What if everyone thought you did?”

“Oh, no, you’re getting that look. I know that look, Dean Winchester.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he defended. Cas shook his head determinedly.  

“Last time you talked me into something, I couldn’t walk straight for a week.”

“You say that like you were straight to begin with.”

Cas turned bright scarlet. “Alright, smartass, I’m listening.”

Dean jumps onto his double-twin, which protests with a low-sounding _creak_. He bounces on the mattress three times. Then, on his fourth or fifth jump into his campaign for Cas’s robbed adolescence, he’s moaning the boy’s name. Not once or twice, but three times his crippled voice rings throughout the thin walls of the cabin. Cas quickly joins him, only to cover his mouth and silence the high-pitched shrill coming from the springs beneath them.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he raged in a loud whisper. Dean cocked his head, smiling.

“Making you the most hated alumnus from Sioux Falls High.”

Cas looks like he’s about to make a run for the can when Dean grabs him by the arms and jumps again, forcing his friend airborne. Eventually, there’s less coercing and more bouncing because _Cas is actually starting to enjoy this, the sick bastard._ Cas started to slow his pace, leaping higher for a slower, more comfortable screw. Dean wasn’t one for bottoming, but he had to admit, he liked Cas’s taste.

“Oh yeah! That’s it, Dean!” Cas screamed in time with the squawk of the springs.

Dean increased his momentum, crying out, “Please, Cas, I need you inside me! I nee-eee—”

“Yeah, keep doing that—oh, oh my!”

Soon, Dean wasn’t the only one begging for entrance. He heard the scuffling sound of feet run up the stairs to crowd around the doorway. Again: _vultures._ Either way, it was working.

He had to refrain from putting his hips into the next cry, “Cas, I’m gonna—gonna—!”

“Do it for me, baby,” he panted in a tone that the audience outside had to strain to hear. Dean was most certainly not thinking about getting off on the way he called him baby. “Dean, I’m gonna… it’s—”

“C’mon! Pour some sugar on me, honey!”

That’s when they both came crashing onto the bed with a resounding _thump,_ breathing hard, and this time not for their performance. That legitimately winded them. If sex burns as many calories as they say, they burned twice as many _pretending_ to have sex.

Cas was stock-still until he caught Dean looking in his direction, then he burst out laughing. Dean rolled over to him, burying his own in what would be some seriously stained sheets. That is, until he found himself on top of his best friend. He felt Cas’s laugh die down in his chest, and soon there was nothing between them but the haunting uncertainty of two hormonal boys alone in a bedroom.

Dean gulped. This was definitely not part of the plan.

Cas licked his lips. Dean tracked the moment. Suddenly, Dean fully understood what Cas meant by wishing time would stop. All night became this moment.

At some point, Cas’s hips grinded torturously against Dean’s, testing. Dean growled something nasty low in his throat as he reciprocated the action. Cas’s entire body writhed under him as Dean took pride in watching him come slowly undone. Dean rolled his hips again, quickly in succession. Cas threw his head back, bucking up and producing a sound that went straight to Dean’s groin.

He kissed him slowly and thoroughly, leaving nothing to the imagination. Cas opened his mouth for him greedily, wanting—no, needing—everything his tongue could service him. He tasted like spearmint and honey, the kind that Cas goes out of his way to collect because that’s who Cas is, a giver, and when he gives, he gives with everything he has, his hands, his arms, his legs—

“Alright, lovebirds, it’s time to cut the—” Charlie’s thoughts are interrupted as she witnesses the two boys tangled up in each other. “Cake. Seriously, you’re not even naked? You just lost me gaming privileges for a whole week.”


End file.
